And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him, and that
he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and that he was as
one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his faith was leaving him by
reason of the number of those who believed in him.
And he said to himself, ‘I will talk no more about God. He who giveth
away wisdom robbeth himself.’
And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and bowed
themselves to the ground and said, ‘Master, talk to us about God, for
thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save thee hath this
knowledge.’
And he answered them and said, ‘I will talk to you about all other things
that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not talk to you.
Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you about God.’
And they were wroth with him and said to him, ‘Thou hast led us into the
desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us away hungry, and
the great multitude that thou hast made to follow thee?’
And he answered them and said, ‘I will not talk to you about God.’
And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, ‘Thou hast led us
into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to us about God
and it will suffice us.’
But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to them
about God he would give away his treasure.
And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people returned
to their own homes. And many died on the way.
And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and
journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any answer. And
when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert which is the
desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern in which a Centaur
had once dwelt, he took it for his place of dwelling, and made himself a
mat of reeds on which to lie, and became a hermit. And every hour the
Hermit praised God that He had suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him
and of His wonderful greatness.
Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in which he
had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of evil and
beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with empty hands. Every
evening with empty hands the young man passed by, and every morning he
returned with his hands full of purple and pearls. For he was a Robber
and robbed the caravans of the merchants.
And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a word.
For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith.
And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of purple
and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon the sand,
and said to the Hermit: ‘Why do you look at me ever in this manner as I
pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For no man has looked at
me before in this manner. And the thing is a thorn and a trouble to me.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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